


Mirrors and Fruit

by MessyScandinoodle



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, an au where hannibal is not a cannibal, and he also cares about things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-03-21 10:39:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13739124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessyScandinoodle/pseuds/MessyScandinoodle
Summary: In which Hannibal is not a cannibal, and actually wants to help Will Graham.





	1. Fun House Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hyperfashionist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperfashionist/gifts).



> a commission for hyperfashionist! I was quite stuck on this for a while. Then I suddenly got the inspiration and it took off! I hope you all enjoy. This is obviously not aligned with cannon completely. But this is definitely set in season 1.

Friendship is a profound thing. It sneaks up sometimes, nestling itself. Making itself comfortable in the corners of your mind, slowly taking up more room. It was beginning to occupy a whole room of Hannibal’s mind palace. It’s occupant was a troubled, ornery little man that showered little and ate even less. It was not the kind of friend Hannibal envisioned having. In his mind palace, his friend would be much like him. Perhaps even a mirror of himself . If this was a mirror of himself, it was a funhouse mirror. Distorting himself into something he surely was not. 

 

Hannibal had been patient with Will. More patient than anyone had ever been before- much to Will’s disdain. Despite his best attempts, his snappy remarks and attempts to shove him away, Hannibal had just smiled patiently or given him a quick retort. Hannibal tended not to be a patient man, contrary to what is expected from a psychiatrist. There was something special happening to Hannibal. In all his reserved, disconnected, surgical precision. He was becoming attached. A foreign but not unwelcome concept.  

 

He’d invited himself over for dinner at Will’s house. It was dirty and the dogs were hairy, but it didn’t seem fair that Will was always the one to make the drive from Wolf Trap to Baltimore. He’d brought his own ingredients, not trusting what he might find in Will’s pantry, or more what he wouldn’t find. If only there was a feasible way to bring one’s own stove as well. Will’s was disappointingly but unsurprisingly pitiful, hardly holding a flame.  He made do, noting the film of dust that had settled on it. 

 

“A microwave connoisseur?” he asked, smiling softly. Will seemed embarrassed, and he rubbed his stubbly chin absently, 

 

“Unfortunately not. It’s just as dusty.” He avoided his eyes as he spoke, and Hannibal just nodded slowly. If he didn’t use the stove, or the microwave. What was he using? “I’m not starving. Don’t worry. I just tend to eat out, order in… or just skip it.” Hannibal made a face. All of those choices were disgusting.

“That’s not good, Will. Diet is important.” Before he could continue, with an anecdote or a story, Will cut him off, 

 

“I don’t need the lecture, thank you. Some nights my appetite is off.” He drank his dinner some nights. After long days where his thoughts were scrambled, and he lost who he was. “Is it cold in here to you?” he asked, rubbing his arms absently. Hannibal assumed he was trying to change the subject, until he saw him physically shudder. Without a thought, he reached forward and felt his forehead. 

 

“You do feel warm.” he noted, “Have you been feeling well?” He wasn’t aware he had invaded his space until Will ducked away. Hannibal was ignorant to his need to feel Will’s flesh against his own until his hand was left empty. A small, worried expression just faintly tilted his features down. 

 

“I’ve been feeling... “ There was a pause, and Hannibal waited patiently. Always patient. Drove Will insane. He had to decide whether honesty would be his best policy. “I haven’t been feeling myself. Like I’m fading.” He admitted, noting to himself it was quite a dramatic way to put it. Hannibal just inclined his head in thought, before nodding once. 

 

As he began serving them plates, he looked to Will, “Perhaps some Tylenol for now, for the fever.” Hannibal recognized Will’s natural scent, but something heavy hung within it. It was a sickly, sweet smell. Fever, but something more than that. Inflammation, but he couldn’t smell exactly where from at his current position. It was difficult enough to get physically close to Will. Though as of recent, their personal bubbles were becoming smaller. Chairs moving closer, standing side by side at the ghastly crime scenes. Hannibal sometimes irrationally felt they should be holding hands. 

 

Will had complied, and took his tylenol. “You shouldn’t be here, if I have a fever. I could be contagious.” He murmured in his sad little way. A tone that told Hannibal he wanted him to stay, but out of politeness, or perhaps fear, was asking him to leave. 

 

“I don’t think you’re contagious, Will. You aren’t coughing, or sneezing. Besides I can boast of a very adept immune system after working in a hospital for years.” He offered him his plate, and watched him go sit in an armchair near the coffee table. What human-being didn’t own a table? Though Hannibal figured if you basically lived through filter feeding the air, it really wasn’t necessary, now was it. It still shook him to his core. 

_ “Perhaps I will buy him one…”  _ A surprising thought, that he quickly tucked away. Although he did sometimes splurge on others, it wasn’t often. Certainly not on patients. Their doctor-patient relationship was quickly dismantling into something else though. 

 

Talk was cheap over their food, and then a long silence settled over them. Will continued to shiver on occasion, and Hannibal kept a close eye on him. He’d be setting an appointment for him with a specialist. His fingers had a firm grasp still within the world of medicine, and it wasn’t difficult for him to pull a few strings to get prompt care. He figured it was no different if it meant care for a patient of his. 

 

\--

 

Life had never dealt Will Graham the fair hand. Almost every decision in his life had lead to roadblocks and further sinking into the mire. Sinking sand. A fun fact about sinking sand, however, is that you don’t sink very much at all. In fact, it’s unlikely you’d sink farther than your waist. You can get plenty stuck, but you won’t truly drown in it. That was the state of Will Graham’s life. Waist deep in the sinking sand of his mind, his condition. Trudging along for meager scraps of food and water. Little tidbits of happiness and peace. 

 

He had learned in the jungle of his mind that low hanging fruit was often poisonous. If it was easy to reach, it was too good to be true. The best fruit, was hard to reach. Maybe impossible. He was unaware that not only was the best apple hanging low, but disguised as an obstacle.

Hannibal invaded his space, touched his things, made faces at his dogs, silently chastised his living conditions. Hannibal did all the things Will Graham hated. Yet, he wasn’t pushing him out. Giving him ‘subtle’ signals it was time to go. No mentions of it being late, of the dogs needing to be walked or other nonsense. Despite what could be marked an awkward silent. Nothing but the sound of metal against porcelain to break it. The truth was, despite the intrusion. The judgement. He liked that the chair beside him was occupied. The space was filled. He felt he could feel the energy buzzing beside him, a warm glow against his face. In his imagination, in his own mind palace, that is how they looked. In a sense it could be said that Hannibal was radiant. 

 

It helped that the food was good. The food was always good. He ate it even when he wasn’t hungry. He ate it when he was even feeling sick . Perhaps it was his need to please. Perhaps he was so desperate for some companionship that he would subject himself to a sore belly. Or maybe it was that he was hungry a lot more often than he would admit to himself. Whatever the case. The food was good. 

 

“It’s good.” Will finally said, just for the sake of breaking the silence. This seemed to please Hannibal, as he settled back in his seat a bit more.

 

“Thank you, Will. Roast chicken with fennel Panzanella. Not my most complicated meal.” 

 

“I appreciate that. My palette hasn’t been able to handle much recently.” It was half of an admission. He hadn’t been eating, except for fast food and on occasion, some noodles. He was assuming it was from the strain of work. He was going too deep, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do to get back to the shallows. He knew he could reach for Hannibal. He could, but he wouldn’t. He didn’t need help. He wasn’t intaking water just yet. 

 

\--

 

He should have made the phone call by now. His pride kept him from it. He fidgeted with the phone, then fidgeted with his schedule. He checked one more time at the page with Will’s name on it. Will was missing. Late actually. He was now twenty minutes late. He was always prompt, early usually. Missing. He finally picked up the phone. He should have just charged his insurance for a late fee. Failure to call. Something. But no, instead he called. His brows furrowed in worry as it rang. He got a full mailbox. Not surprising, Will was that type of person not to ever check his voicemail, and not pay attention to if it was full or not. He tried once more, then went to start the paperwork for a late penalty. He pulled out the forms from his desk, and stared at them. He was holding the pen over the paper, but he didn’t let it touch. Something wasn’t right. He set the pen down, and abandoned the papers. He got his coat, and headed out. 

 

On his way out of the office, after locking up, he called Jack. He didn’t know where Will was either. He would start his search at Will’s house. It would be a long drive. It could be for naught  He needed to try. It would turn out he wouldn’t have to bother. As he unlocked his car, a very flustered looking, sweaty Will was rushing towards him. 

 

“I’m late, I’ll pay the fee.” Will said, obviously embarrassed about his tardiness. Hannibal gazed at him, and he would have probably given him a snipped remark. He didn’t. Will wasn’t wearing shoes. He had no jacket. His feet were covered in mud. 

 

“Will, what have you been doing?” He asked cautiously, watching him shiver. Was it from the cold outside, or from the fevered heat he could smell rolling off of him. It couldn’t wait anymore. He started back up to his office, and Will followed, stumbling out an explanation. 

 

“I was at my house, with the dogs. I let them out. I heard something in the woods. Like one of them were hurt and then I-” he stopped abruptly mid sentence, in realization. “I don’t know what happened after that. I must have driven here. I don’t remember.” 

 

Hannibal listened, then nodded. “Will, I’m calling a doctor. He’s a friend of mine. He will help.” Will recoiled at the thought. He didn’t like doctors. He was poked and prodded enough growing up. He didn’t want anymore. But he was really falling apart. Taking in water. He had to reach for Hannibal. 

 

He quite literally had to, stumbling on a step, and falling into him. Hannibal caught him in strong arms, swaying just slightly on the steps. 

“Arm on me.” Hannibal ordered, in a way that made it seem Will didn’t have a chance at arguing. He put his arm on his shoulder, and they made it the rest of the way to his office. Hannibal gently set him down, then got his phone to make his call. He pulled some strings, called in some favors. Despite it being well after hours for his friend, they would be meeting him within the hour at the hospital. 

 

\-- 

Will was still reluctant to go. He was arguing against it. If one could even call it an argument. Hannibal hardly spoke, just gave orders. 

“I’m not getting poked and prodded.” He announced stubbornly, even as Hannibal prepared Will’s file to be taken with them, records of his descent into what Will felt was pure madness. Hearing voices, sounds, losing time, waking up with police lights blinding him. 

“You won’t be poked and prodded. You will have an MRI done, and if that is inconclusive, some blood tests.” He explained. “Now, please draw a clock for me.” Will’s eyes rolled childishly, but he drew the clock. For some reason he felt cocky about it. Draw a clock, what a stupid thing to ask. He drew a regular old clock, or at least what he thought was a regular clock. He was unaware it was completely distorted, hardly recognizable if it weren’t for the numbers jumbled together. Hannibal tucked his clock drawing in his file he was preparing. “You are very sick, Will. You can refuse treatment, but I can’t advise it. I would appreciate it greatly it if you would accompany me to see this doctor. He is very professional, and is renowned for his skill.”

Will usually wasn’t a fan of bargaining. He could sense Hannibal’s urgency though. He felt compelled to give in. He was silent for a few moments, rubbing his scruffy face in distress. He didn’t want to go, but he wanted to. Well, he wanted to please Hannibal. Not for the greater good, or because it would save someone’s life. He just wanted to make him happy, though he hesitated to admit it to himself. 

“Fine, I’ll go.” he relented finally, and for a brief moment he could see the relief all over Hannibal’s face and whole body. His shoulders relaxed, a soft sigh left him, and his face softened. 

“Thank you. We should go then. I will drive.” 

“Don’t trust my driving?” 

“It’s important I stay honest with you, Will. I don’t trust you are capable of driving right now. No.” 

With a melancholy smile, he nodded, “I get it. Fair enough.” 

 

\--

 

Hannibal met Dr. Sutcliffe at the door, and he ushered them to the MRI room. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Hannibal.” he reminded him, which of course made Hannibal smile.

 

“Of course, thank you for your time. I can tell you, it will be worth it.” He reassured, glancing to Will. He was looking pale and tired. He felt bad for him. He felt compassion despite all his training to disconnect. He couldn’t disconnect from Will. He was becoming attached. 

 

Once in the MRI room, Hannibal gently walked Will through the process, but it seemed he was aware of how it worked already. He would have to pry later. 

 

“You still haven’t told me what you think is wrong with me.” Will’s head turned to him as he adjusted himself in his lying position. Hannibal met his eyes, and his gut jumped. They were filled with fear. Vulnerable and open. He reached to grasp his hand, holding it tightly in his own. Will didn’t recoil, but instead squeezed it. 

 

“It’s nothing I won’t fix.” He reassured. He finally realized what was happening to him. Something he thought himself incapable of. After losing so much, and learning to be disconnected from his emotions, for both his surgical and psychiatric career. It was inconvenient, unprofessional. It completely broke every code of ethics. He was falling in love with his patient. He was falling in love with Will Graham. 


	2. Low Hanging Fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now admitted to the hospital, Will is reminded how lonely he is. Hannibal's constant visiting changes that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second and final chapter for this commission! It's had such a positive response though, I may continue it!

Hannibal and Dr. Sutcliffe stared at the images that Will’s brain was emitting. It was quite literally on fire, inflamed and angry. Hannibal was relieved. No tumors. He pointed to the screen, “Encephalitis?” He asked as if he didn’t already know the answer, but Dr. Sutcliffe nodded his agreement nonetheless.

“Anti-NMDA Encephalitis.” He said, sighing quietly. “We should get him admitted as soon as possible.” Hannibal wasn’t quite listening, staring at the scan. Will had not been being honest with him at all. This was not the brain of someone functioning well. He felt something uncomfortable pulling in the pit of his gut, but he couldn’t quite identify it.

 

“Yes, we should…” He sighed softly, then pressed the little button that opened the com, “Will, we’re done now. I’ll come get you out.” He informed, before going to do just that.

 

Will sat up once he could, being careful. “What is it? What’s wrong with me?” his voice was so filled with worry, and it soothed the pulling in Hannibal’s gut.

“You have Encephalitis. Your brain is on fire,” That could have been it, the end of the conversation, as he helped Will stand, “You’ve been dishonest.” But of course he had to say it.  For a few moments Will was silent, just standing there. He licked his lips, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed.

“Some things, I just can’t put into words.” He murmured, and Hannibal grunted softly in understanding. There was a short pause before he turned to grab Will’s clothes.

 

“Here, go get dressed.” Hannibal wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He didn’t like that Will had kept things from him. It went beyond their doctor/patient relationship, which dismayed him even further. What he had felt in his gut was hurt, a mostly foreign feeling to him. He never let anyone close enough to be hurt. At least Will would be in the hospital for a while and he could have a break from him.

  


\--

Will didn’t like hospitals. He had a hard time relinquishing control. He didn’t feel like he had much control with his body as it were, so when doctors started making the decisions for him he really felt powerless. It wasn’t like he _couldn’t_ say no, or refuse treatment, he just knew better than to do that. Especially with something as serious as encephalitis. He didn’t feel quite as anxious this time. With Hannibal delegating and giving second opinions for his care, he felt he was in good hands. An odd relief, but not unwelcome.

 

Despite insisting to himself that he needed a break from Will’s company, Hannibal had been coming to visit him in the hospital every day before or after appointments.  Sometimes both. In fact today, Will suspected he may have cancelled appointments to come see him. He had come in the morning, and now that Will was eating lunch, courtesy of Hannibal, he was still there. Scrutinizing each nurse, each medication put in his drip. Checking his temperature and occasionally… Well, he couldn’t be sure, but it did seem as if Hannibal was giving him a good sniff. There it was. He leaned close, and took a deep breath. Surely he thought he was being subtle.

 

“Did you just… smell me?” he asked, looking over at Hannibal. Hannibal looked just a touch flustered, which meant he was _very_ flustered. Will saw right through his stoic facade.

 

“Hard to avoid.” he quipped back, his only defense apparently. Will’s sass gun was locked and loaded though.

 

“Pardon my lack of showering, since I’m connected to five million machines currently.” In response, Hannibal made his classic chin tuck, mouth agape just slightly.

 

“That was very rude. If you would like to shower, the nurses can assist you.”

 

“I don’t want strangers helping my naked ass in the shower.” Will was a prideful man, and he wasn’t about to let the nurses giggle about what he had hidden beneath his clothes.

There was a pause before Hannibal spoke. Will watched him, knowing he was handpicking each word.

“Perhaps you would like someone more familiar to help you?” The hesitation in his voice made Will squirm. It made him uncomfortable that Hannibal sounded shy.

 

“Perhaps.” His gut was churning at the idea. He felt stupid for it. Hannibal was his friend, he just wanted to help. “Fine. Yeah. just help me figure out how to position stuff so I don’t break anything.”

 

Will started getting out of bed, careful of all his wires and IV. He was doing much better than when he was first admitted. He was hoping to get out soon. However. the doctors were talking about in-home care. Encephalitis wasn’t a quick cold, and some things he might not ever recover. It was scary to think about. Memories he had lost could stay lost forever, and there was potential for adopting other mental illnesses. Like he didn’t have enough already.

 

“Adopt them like dogs…” He mused to himself, and Hannibal looked to him questioningly. “Mental illnesses.” He smiled drily, but apparently his dark humor was funny enough to make Hannibal smile.

“I predict a full recovery. We caught it fast enough, I think.”

“Doesn’t change that my brain was on fire.” He muttered, and Hannibal conceded with a nod.

 

After a quick conversation with a nurse, they were headed for the shower. Hannibal made it clear Will would not require help. Although Hannibal didn’t touch, his hands hovered as Will shuffled into the bathroom. He appreciated the courtesy. He wasn’t too proud to allow himself to fall on his ass.

“Here, sit on this.” It was a shower chair, the kind you saw in nursing homes. He plopped himself on it and Hannibal removed his drip and heart monitor patches. “Do you need help with your gown?”

If Will hadn’t known better, he would say Hannibal was flushed at the question. Oh, he could take this and run with it. He wouldn’t though- he was embarrassed as well. “I think I’m fine.” He stood, “You can just… hover by the door. Once I’m sitting I’ll be fine.”

 

Hannibal was respectful, keeping his gaze turned away visibly until Will was finished and seated. After that he left, standing outside the door. He kept it cracked.

 

His shower was uneventful. It felt great though, to get clean. He’d already been here for almost a week and this was his first time showering. Fact was, he wasn’t sure he would have showered if Hannibal hadn’t been the one helping him. He was beginning to feel an odd reliance on him, that spanned past a doctor-patient relationship. A friendship, he would tentatively call it, for now.

 

With Will safely back in bed and finally clean, Hannibal pulled out something surprising. A deck of cards. He pulled them delicately from their box. They were gold trimmed, and black on the back. “Canasta, or Poker?”

It was Will’s turn to surprise, “Canasta.” They settled into a long game, bantering back and forth.

 

Halfway through the game, Hannibal recalled what he had said earlier. “Will, do you often feel mentally ill?” He kept his voice even, and soft. He knew if it felt like prodding, Will would clam up.

 

“I’ve been depressed since my early teens.” he admitted, drawing two cards and adding to the massive hand he was holding onto. Waiting for Hannibal to throw down the perfect card.

 

“From all the moving?”

“From a lot of things. Loneliness, mostly. So I guess that was a side effect from the moving.” Will found it fairly easy to talk to Hannibal ,specially after all his visits to his hospital room. The only one who came to visit, really. Jack came once to reassure him their latest case was going well. Bev came a couple times, bringing along crime scene photos and files. No one just came to see _him_. Perhaps it was his own fault. He had been trying hard to stay out of the way, while still cooperating and working as a team. Perhaps he would just always be alone. It was better that way.

“I don’t want you to be lonely anymore.” Hannibal admitted, staring at Will over his cards. Will met his eyes, and a smile slowly crept onto his face,

“Are you saying you’ll keep me company?”

“Is that not what I’m doing now?” It was a fair point, and Will sat back with an amused grunt.

“Fair enough.” After Will spoke, Hannibal threw down a card. The perfect card. He had been throwing down a plethora of cards that Will could use. He scooped up the large pile, cackling deviously.

 

Hannibal watched, mouth gaping as Will lay down almost his entire hand. And then his entire hand. Two blacks, and two red canastas. Hannibal had held the lead by almost a thousand points, but that was now crushed by this naughty empath.

“You cheated.” Hannibal said, a big smile on his face. Will snorted,

“Did not, sore loser.” he was counting his cards, additional points for his amazing comeback. Hannibal started doing the same, trying to salvage what could have been a nice victory. But as he did, Will became quite obnoxious.

“49, 107, 34, 401.” He chanted, and Hannibal huffed,

“Will, you made me lose count!”

 

\--

Will’s laughter made his incredible loss and annoying antics all worth it. Will hadn’t been genuinely happy in a while. To be involved in this happiness was a gift. He would cherish it, hold it close to himself. This hospital room would be renovated into his memory palace. These moments tucked away for any time things became bleak. Will was starting to occupy all the brightest rooms. These rooms had been empty for so long, it was odd to have someone in them. He used to keep his memory palace boarded up, guests were unwelcome. He wasn’t even sure when the boards had come down.

 

“You are beautiful when you laugh.” Hannibal admitted, and Will stopped, finger placed on the card he was about to draw.

“I… Thank you.” It was obvious Will wasn’t accustomed to compliments. At least not like the one he had just been given. The room was quiet now, and Will drew his two cards.

“When you’re released, I would like to care for you.” Hannibal announced. He felt like he was starting to get irrational. But he also felt if he held all this inside, he might just explode. “I can care for you better than any nurse here.” This for some reason, made Will laugh again.

“Alright, alright. It’s okay. I’ll let you care for me.” Will was still chuckling a little when he spoke, then sobered. “It has to be at my house. My dogs.” He added, and Hannibal nodded. He could live with that. The question was… How was he going to get a table from his house to Will’s?

\--

 

It was finally time. After a week and a half in the hospital, he was finally able to go home. It wasn’t all that bad really. He didn’t have to go look at death, he didn’t have to teach, and Hannibal fed him and came and saw him every day. His dogs had been cared for by Alana, but oh did he miss them. He was also excited for a good night’s rest. Aside from the night that Hannibal had stayed, the card game night, Will had been woken every few hours to check his vitals or change something or other. Hannibal had fought off the nurses the night he stayed, doing his own checking.

Hannibal’s care had caused more paperwork. Will had to sign that he understood Hannibal was not staff at this hospital, and that they weren’t responsible for any negligence on his part. He was perfectly fine with that.

 

Will had become quite attached to Hannibal now. He was disappointed when he woke in the mornings and he wasn’t there, but always brightened when he came back around, always with food in hand. The heavy medication, the dizziness and sickness, didn’t seem so bad if Hannibal was there, to play cards with or just talk to. Sometimes they sat in silence, Hannibal reading while Will watched the TV. It was a wonderful comfort, and the nurses seemed to notice that his condition improved in Hannibal’s presence.

 

He was now signing the final paper, the discharge forms. Although he was still experiencing confusion, memory loss, and some muscle weakness, the promise of at-home care was enough to be able to let him go.

Hannibal took his bags of prescriptions, as Will slowly made his way outside. It felt good to wear normal clothes again. Admittedly, the adult underwear they had there was quite comfy though. Hannibal took his arm at the curb, and helped him step down. He was still weak, mostly from the malnutrition he experienced prior to going into the hospital. Whatever he ate didn’t stay down, so he had stopped bothering to eat mostly. Now that he was lucid he realized how stupid that was.

 

Will felt carsick on the way home, despite Hannibal’s best efforts not to take any turns sharply, or hit the brakes too suddenly. It was most likely a side effect of the myriad of medicines he was on. Some of them were more like chemotherapies than normal medicines. Another reason he needed someone at home with him until he was through the medications.

At his house, after over an hour of driving and queasiness, Hannibal helped him inside. Alana had the dogs outside, and Hannibal did his best to keep them down. Will shooed Hannibal away, and carefully got down onto the ground with the dogs. He pet each one, talking to them lovingly. He laughed as his face was licked, then ordered them inside.

“Help me up?” Will asked, and Hannibal did as soon as he asked. He grasped his arm, and pulled him up. Inside they went.

 

Will tried to help Hannibal get the couch prepared for someone to be sleeping on it, but Hannibal had insisted he get in bed, and rest until his dizziness subsided. He went to bed, but he didn’t like it. He busied himself anyways, creating a list of what the dogs needed each day, and what commands worked for what. It was maybe a little overkill, since he’d be there. It was more in case he was asleep and Hannibal wasn’t sure.

He didn’t recall falling asleep, until he was startled awake by weight on the bed. His half asleep brain assumed it was one of the dogs, and he tsked at them. Hannibal laughed softly in reply.. Will opened his eyes, brows furrowed.

“Oh…” he croaked, and a glass of water was offered. He took a drink from it, “I thought coming home would keep me from being bothered awake?” He smiled as he spoke.

 

“My goal wasn’t to wake you.” he admitted, and Will’s brows furrowed again.

“What was your goal?”

“You were dreaming, and so I thought perhaps the presence of another person would help calm you.” Will nodded softly at that, and relaxed back in the pillows. Resigned himself into them. He was hoping the dreaming would end once the encephalitis was cleared up. Though he wasn’t fully recovered yet.

“Thank you, Hannibal. For doing this for me.” It came out of the blue. He could have kept talking about the dream, or the fact that Hannibal woke him up. It felt important to say it, while he had the guts to say it.

“You’re welcome, Will. I just want you to get better, and to feel better.” Will moved a hand, to gently grasp Hannibal’s.   
“No one has ever done anything like this for me.” He explained, “You’ve taken work leave, just for me.” His voice was still gravely with sleep, “It means a lot. It really does.”

Hannibal nodded, “I care for you, Will. You are my friend.” Hannibal’s gentle hand felt his forehead, and he sighed softly. “You’re warm.”

“I’m not done talking,” Will said indignantly, “Hannibal, I think we both know this goes far beyond doctor-patient relations.” Hannibal’s expression became guarded, and Will’s stomach dropped a touch. “Hannibal, I really care about you. I’d do the same for you. I would.” He reached down, and grasped for Hannibal’s hand. To his relief, Hannibal’s fingers clasped his.

“Thank you, Will. I care for you too. More than I have been able to admit to myself.” he was smiling now, and Will smiled back. “I meant it, Will. When I said I don’t want you to be lonely anymore. I want to fill all of your needs. Every single one.”

“Then kiss me, Hannibal.” Will whispered. “Kiss me.” Hannibal took no time to obey. Anything. He would meet all his needs. Hannibal pressed his lips to Will’s shyly, a tender little kiss.

 

You see, when it comes to mirrors and fruit, not everything is as it seems. Grapefruit looks juicy and sweet, but is bitter. Sometimes the fun house mirror distorts our appearance in the worst ways. But sometimes the low-hanging fruit is the sweetest, even if it doesn't look good on the outside. And sometimes the mirror reflects the best parts of ourselves.


End file.
